Hitman in Westeros
by TheGOTAddict
Summary: A young man with a dark background falls into the world of Ice and Fire, years before Robert's Rebellion. Having woken up and found in a forest by a kingsguard, he is brought to The Mad King himself, revealing his circumstance, where he's from. Change is inevitable due to his presence. Yet if the change is for the better or worse remains to be seen.
1. Chapter 1

Pain.

Pain was all he knew.

He did not go numb during his final moments. He would not die peacefully, and feel the merciful release from his hollow and meaningless life.

A life of blood.

He would not dance with Death in the afterlife.

But why?

He should be dead, But he wasn't. And now? Now he felt nothing but pain. He saw nothing. Pitch black enveloped his vision. He tried to move his body, his limbs. But nothing happened. It wasn't that they didn't move that confused him. It was that he couldn't feel his limbs. In fact, he felt nothing. He could not even feel his own body.

He felt truly hollow. Is this what it truly felt like when you die? Are you thrust into painful oblivion, doomed to an afterlife of forlornness? Is this the fate that was dealt to his-?

Wait. He felt something. Yes, he could breathe! He felt his chest rise and fall! He could feel the satisfactory feeling of his lungs being filled with fresh and delicious air!

So he wasn't dead… odd.

His eyes suddenly opened wide as he gasped loudly. He panted frantically as he stared up at the trees.

Wait, trees?

The shock of being thrust into the land of the living in an instant was too much for him to care about where he was. He simply kept breathing, calming it to a steady pace. The grass tickled his ears as they gently brushed against them. They soon began to itch.

He closed his green eyes to stop them from stinging after they were wide open for a good while. Once it went away, along with the shock, he opened his eyes. He hoisted his own torso upwards to sit. His gaze observed the trees surrounding him.

He was in a forest.

What the hell was happening?

His black-gloved hand absentmindedly went to his ear to scratch the itch away before his hand went through his long black hair. His lightly messy and wild hair almost reached his neck. He stood up slowly and looked around. His head stopped when his eyes found a black briefcase next to his feet. He crouched as his hand reached for it. He suddenly realized, as he saw his arm, that he was wearing his traditional black suit with the red tie. He quickly looked down to see that his chest and suit was untouched by the bullets and blood. He mentally shrugged it off. It didn't matter, as long as he was wearing something. His hand gripped the briefcase before his thumbs flicked the drawbolt latches open. He opened it to reveal his usual gear.

All the parts for his Beretta M9 handgun, his black-colored Karambit, a garrote wire and a cleaning kit for his handgun. The other half of the briefcase, the one considered the 'lid', had an abundance of magazines filled with bullets.

A hitman's gear.

But where the hell was he? And who the hell placed him here, and why would they give him his weapons?

He was suddenly broken out of his thoughts by the distant sound of… hooves? But that wasn't all. He heard the sound of metal clanging. Had it been anyone else, they wouldn't have heard anything. But His senses were more than a normal human's.

He swiftly closed the briefcase and locked the drawbolt latch before turning around and walking towards the direction of the sound. He immediately made his way to the sound. His calm stride unaffected by the wilderness, he finally arrived at the edge of a road. He found himself in disbelief from what his eyes were showing him.

Men wearing steel plate armor strode in two columns, behind and in front of a white carriage with golden markings decorating it. In the front, a man stood in the middle. He wore a cloak and suit of armor as white as his hair. His sharp eyes spotted the man's violet eyes.

He noticed something was off. He realized it was impossible for humans to have violet eyes and silver hair. There were only people with violet eyes in fiction. Only in A Song of Ice And Fire did the Targaryens have such bizarre eye colors.

But he wasn't in a world of Ice and Fire… was he?

No, such thoughts are ridiculous!

But so is the sight of men wearing medieval armor… No, he shouldn't even be entertaining the thought, for god's sake!

Yet despite the bizarre and irrational nature of the idea, his mind could not ignore the possibility. He mentally sighed. He wasn't going to jump to that assumption… but he was not dismissing it either.

The apparent silver-haired leader of the guards halted the convoy with a motion of his hand as his other went to the hilt of the sword at his waist. His commanding voice called out, "Who goes there?!"

The men behind him unsheathed their blades and gripped their hilts. They were obviously protecting someone important, someone they didn't want to risk the life of. The man walked to the middle of the road, and stared at the leader.

The leader's eyes widened at the sight of the young man in front of him wearing strange clothes. "I ask again! Who goes there?! Answer truthfully, and you shall not be harmed, lest you give us reason to!"

The foreign man wearing those queer clothes stared in silence before his own toneless voice called out, "Someone in search of answers!"

The leader in shining white armor noticed the strange accent the man had, "And what questions does this ' _someone_ ' have?!"

The black-haired stranger strode forward slowly, and in response the leader drew his blade. Once the stranger was close enough, the silver-haired man held the tip of his sword to his face. The young man stared at the blade. It had a rippled pattern, he noticed, just like Damascus steel… odd. His gloved hand slowly wandered to the sword before gently pushing it aside, "Trying to kill you would be suicide. I only want to speak face to face instead of shouting from a distance."

His violet eyes regarded him warily, "As you wish. I am Ser Arthur Dayne, Sword of The Morning. What is your name, stranger?"

Arthur _Dayne_ … perhaps he wasn't a Targaryen. "…Call me Suit."

The now-named Arthur Dayne stared at him oddly; the men behind him exchanged confused glances, "Suit?" Suit nodded curtly. "…As you wish."

Before the knight could inquire Suit's intentions, the door to the carriage opened. Everyone's eyes, including Suit's, wandered to the person stepping out of it. A woman, in her early thirties most likely, stepped out of the carriage. Her silver hair reflected the sunlight, and her amethyst eyes hauntingly gazed on Suit's figure. They reflected suffering and sadness. She wore a grey dress, a crown adorning her scalp.

So this was who all these men were protecting.

A silver-haired queen. Was he where he suspected?

Her voice portrayed concern, but not for herself, as she asked, "Ser Arthur, is everything alright?"

The knight nodded, "Worry not, my queen. We happened upon a… traveler. You can return to the carriage, there is nothing to fret over. We will soon arrive in the Capital."

The woman seemed unconvinced, yet nodded nonetheless. Her gaze met that of Suit's. His strange clothes caught her curiosity. His intelligent eyes seemed to scan every little detail they could find. She noticed how his eyes drifted over every person, observing them.

Suit's eyes wandered over her body. His inhumanly sharp eyes spotted a bruise on her shoulder, and a… bite mark next to it?

The queen noticed his realization and swiftly covered the marks on her shoulder with her dress. Their eyes met. Hers depicted anxiousness, and his betrayed no emotion. She forced her eyes to break from his and swiftly made her way into the carriage again.

As soon as the door closed, Arthur turned around, "I'm afraid I must ask you to hand over all of your weapons."

"I have none."

His eyes inspected Suit's face for any signs of deception. He was no master in reading people, but Suit did not seem to be hiding anything… he hoped. "I suppose I'll take your word for it. We go for the capital. You can join us if you wish it. Once we arrive, the king would probably wish to see you."

"A king wants to question a traveler?" Suit's eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion.

"The king is… overly cautious when it comes to strangers."

"…I see." Suit's expression did not betray his thoughtfulness, " _I know nothing of where I am. It'd be better if I joined them. At least then I'll have an idea of where I am._ " "I will join you."

A nod was his response, before he finally sheathed his blade. He turned to his men, "Sheath your blades, but be on guard!" He locked eyes with Suit, "I cannot trust you just yet. I hope you will not hold it against me."

The stranger shook his head, "If anything, I encourage your caution. It means you're no idiot."

Arthur chuckled, "Your words are appreciated." His mirth disappeared as quickly as it arrived, "But we must delay no longer. Come."

* * *

Suit glanced around the spartan room where he now resided. Only a bed, with a window. There was nothing else except a chair and a table. Not even a candle to light. Luckily, the sun lit up the room well enough. The stone walls made him feel like he was in a dungeon. Thankfully, that was not the case.

Suit knew he was now in the world of Ice and Fire. He confirmed it himself after hearing everyone refer to the royal family as the Targaryens.

He had to be weary of the king. The amount of questions he asked bordered on paranoia. He had threated Suit many times over, that he would suffer the worst fate if he was caught lying. So this is who Robert and Eddard spoke of in the TV show he watched. If only he had watched more of it, he most likely would have known more about the past than he does now. He would have known even more if he read the books. But he didn't have time, nor interest.

During the questioning, he thought it wise to reveal his true situation. It took some convincing which may or may not have involved Suit assembling his pistol, firing it, before disassembling it again. The look on the king's face and his subjects proved amusing for Suit, even though he hid it.

Once the interrogation was over, the king's son, prince Rhaegar who proved to be the exact opposite of his father, offered him a room in the castle to stay. Rhaegar was no fool, he realized Suit was no mere traveler. He showed to be a kind man, yet a bit naïve.

' _Was this truly the man who kidnapped and raped a lord's innocent daughter?_ ' was the question that echoed in his mind.

Rhaegar's wife, princess Elia, was just as kind and far more brave. Her frail stature hid her true clever self.

Suit looked at the briefcase in his hands. He sighed to himself before placing it on the table. His hands reached to unlock it until he froze. His hands were beginning to sweat. He gripped the finger of the black glove before tugging at it until he finally pulled it off. He did the same with his other hand. He closed his eyes and reveled at the tiny satisfaction of air against his hands.

His reveling was short lived as he immediately opened his eyes along with the black briefcase and opened it. He stared at the content before pulling out the barrel of his handgun. ' _Time to get to work_ '.

 **Next Morning**

Suit walked the hallways of the Red Keep. He would have to make his way to a tavern to search for bounties. Killing is what he was best at after all. His suit hid his tactical shoulder holster carrying the Karambit and the M9. He currently walked through the keep to remember every path there was in case he needed to find his way outside of the keep as quickly as possible. His shoe steps echoed surprisingly loud.

Now, where was th-

 _Oof!_

Suit heard as something ran into his leg. He looked down to see a young girl with silver white hair, around the age of three, on her behind and a small wooden lady in front of her. The toy depicted a woman with long hair and a beautiful dress. The girl rubbed her nose gently as she muttered "ow" before slowly looking up at Suit. Her eyes suddenly turned nervous, almost fearful as she saw the stranger who claimed to be from another world.

Suit's imposing figure clearly frightened the young girl as she continued to stare with wide eyes.

"Princess!" a woman's voice called out.

The now-named Rhaenys turned her head quickly to look at her own mother's lady-in-waiting. Her eyes were just as wide, yet concern filled them in place of nervousness and fear. Her beautiful face was unmarred as her expression betrayed no worry and instead she tried to put on a firm and strong face. Her long black hair was only slightly wavy and her haunting violet eyes identical to Arthur Dayne's.

The stranger looked at the young girl at his feet, ' _A princess, huh?_ ' He crouched down before picking up the wooden lady. He stared at it as he rotated it between his fingers. It was clear whoever made this was very skilled in carving.

His eyes flicked to the young girl, "Is this yours?" His voice was cold and firm, imposing to the young girl.

She slowly nodded her head, still nervous. What if the man took her toy from her? It was one of her favorite toys! Her father had gifted it to her!

He stared at it once more before he surprised both the girl and the woman. He held it out to her, his expression turning gentle along with his voice, "It's beautiful."

Her eyes widened in surprise as she stared at him. Her hand slowly took it from him, "Thank you… ser." She suddenly felt more comfortable and safe.

Suit shook his head with a kind smile on his face. From what he remembered hearing from the TV show, 'ser' was the title of a knight, "I'm not a knight… princess."

"Oh… well, what are you then?"

Suit's eyes froze as his smile fell. He stared at her, not knowing the answer. Could he admit his true profession? Everything he's done, everything he lives for?

"…Nobody important."

Rhaenys stared at him, a small smile slowly appearing on her face. "Oh. Hi nobody important, I'm Rhaenys!"

He raised his eyebrow at her, yet was unable to keep the smile from creeping up on his lips, "You proud of yourself?"

She giggled with a nod, prompting Suit to chuckle quietly. The girl was gregarious for a child.

None of them noticed the woman walking up to them, her smile proud. Proud that the young princess managed to make this stranger let his guard down. She had seen him speaking with the king. He was fearless to the point of foolishness, and eerily calm. It disturbed her how unfazed he was at the threats of horrible agony the king had made if this man turned out to be a liar. He was not a normal person. That much was evident. The way he carried himself, the way his eyes flicked to every single person in the room, analyzing them.

He was smart, and dangerous. But the way he let his guard down in the presence of a child. She could tell he was not deceiving them. His gentle kindness with the little princess was genuine.

Seems he had a soft spot in his heart for children.

She decided to make herself known, "Princess, you know I hate having to run after you."

Rhaenys turned around, her face apologetic, "Sorry. But I wanted to go down to the dragon skulls again!"

Suit had to stop his eyes from widening. ' _Dragon skulls!?_ '

Before anything else could happen, a voice prompted the three to look behind the lady and the princess. "Princess!" An old man stood wearing the white armor of the kingsguard, his face portraying concern yet also fluster. He was out of breath. Before his hand could reach the pommel of his sword once his eyes found Suit's, lady Ashara placated him, "No need for concern, Ser Barristan. The princess felt adventurous and decided to run off to find the dragon skulls. She ran into our guest along the way."

Barristan's eyes regarded him suspiciously, "She's not harmed, is she..?"

"No, there is _no trouble_ here." Ashara turned to the princess before motioning her head to the knight, "Go with Ser Barristan, little princess. He'll take you to your mother."

"But will we go find the dragon skulls later?"

Ashara nodded reassuringly with a smile on her lips, "I promise to join you later."

"Okay," Rhaenys said happily before running over to the man and held his hand. Before the knight could lead her away, she turned to Suit and waved towards him, "Goodbye!"

Suit's smile only grew as he waved back at her before she finally left the room.

His smile fell once only he and the lady occupied the hallway. After a few seconds of silence, he spoke, "I'm impressed."

She looked away from where Rhaenys and Barristan left to look at the alien man in surprise, "S-sorry?"

His eyes shifted to hers, "In the throne room when the king interrogated me. Everyone looked at me oddly, most even in fear after I showed what I was capable of. You too. And yet you're still here."

Her surprise only grew. She thought she hid her nervousness and fear quite well, considering he was standing behind the man like the rest of the crowd. He turned to look at the crowd, but he only glanced. He couldn't have read her that fast could he?

"…I suppose you could call it pride. It is what won't let me cower away in fear."

No words were uttered from him as his gaze lingered on her. Turning to walk back from the direction he came, his mind flicked through several courses of action he could take. What should he do now? He was a man from the modern world, trapped in a medieval one. What _could_ he do?

His mind suddenly turned to Rhaegar. Befriending the heir of a kingdom would give him great influence. Of course, Suit would have to find more than just the heir to a kingdom to befriend for the maximum influence he could possess in the world of politics. But _how_ to befriend him was the question.

He sighed quietly to himself. Seems he's back at square one.


	2. Chapter 2

Suit found himself speaking to Prince Rhaegar. After a couple of days of staying as the royal family's guest, he'd come forth to him with a proposition. Suit had seen the streets of King's Landing, the blacksmith, and seen the farms outside of the city walls. Their methods were… barbaric compared to later techniques used in the renaissance era. Judging from what he's read in the library, and seen and heard first hand, he could say with all certainty that they were still in the medieval era. He could change that.

He was still hesitant at first to reveal his knowledge of better methods of forging steel and farming. An agricultural revolution would benefit everyone, yet smithing was a different story. Better steel meant better weapons. Better weapons meant more killing.

And Suit had caused enough death for several lifetimes all by himself. Should he truly cause anymore?

It was then he remembered he'd always been drawn to the art of death. No matter how many times he'd try to escape his former life, he'd always find himself back at square one: killing just for the sake of killing.

Did it really matter if he revealed it now or if someone else in the future did? How much of a difference would he truly make? It is in Man's nature to kill, it always has been. Would it truly make anything differ?

In the end, he came to the conclusion that it would be better if he was the one to do it. It would put him in a better standing with the royal family if not all of Westeros.

As Suit explained his intentions to the prince, Rhaegar grew ever more skeptical and hesitant. Could he truly trust the word of a man who was not even from this world? Would his father even care?

After some eloquent convincing, the prince finally caved in and promised to bring his proposition to the king.

"…But I can't promise my father will listen."

"I know."

Rhaegar stared at him in silence for a while. "This could help Westeros a great deal. Why are you doing this?"

"So that I can gain your family's favor."

Rhaegar's eyes widened in surprise. He'd suspected this very reason, yet was surprised that the man told the truth. Suit could tell what kind of person Rhaegar was. He was sharp, but even he could not tell if Suit would be lying or not. But he would always suspect it. Because he could tell Suit was not a noble person, and that if he said he was doing it to help the realm Rhaegar would know that his words were false, yet would be unable to prove it.

"I… uh… forgive me. I'm… a bit taken aback that you would speak so bluntly and truthfully." Suit said nothing as he continued to stare. Rhaegar nodded, "I'll bring forth your offer to my father. My gratitude for speaking the truth."

Suit only nodded before Rhaegar bid him farewell and walked off to find his father.

He turned around before he too walked off. Walking through the corridors, he found himself wandering to a section behind the great hall to explore. This too was a maze of corridors, unlit torches were placed on the walls, doors to offices and bedrooms. Guards' eyes regarded him suspiciously. And the further in he went he found open holes in the walls to look out in the city. A substitute for glass windows. He also realized he had reached the far end area of this section.

He passed by a courtyard overlooking the city with thin stone railing at the edge of it to keep anyone from falling off. In all honesty it was more of a large balcony than a courtyard considering the size of it.

He moved away from that area of the section and went further back in the keep. He wandered and wandered, memorizing every corridor before finally realized that the further he was walking, the more guards were stationed. He finally walked past a large door guarded by two knights wearing the same white armor as Arthur Dayne. They were knights of the kingsguard.

One of them looked young enough to be the other knight's son. His hair was golden, his eyes emerald and his back was straight. His eyes looked forward, yet they carried a look of regret.

' _Regret?_ ' Suit thought.

The older of the two broke him out of his mental inquiring, "Can I help you… Suit?"

His eyes flicked to him. After a moment of staring, he spoke, "Arthur told you my name."

"I'd hardly call it a name, but yes."

Suit said nothing. The knight knew what he meant, yet tried to pry out more information from him. And he tried it discreetly. Suit almost found himself impressed. Almost.

Before anyone could say another word, the doors opened to reveal queen Rhaella looking at the ground, her expression almost dead. Maids stood behind her, their expressions varying from anger to sympathy and even to fear. As she walked forward, she looked up at Suit. Her eyes widened and she gasped silently in surprise as she realized who stood in front of her. She recognized those cold and calculating eyes anywhere. And that odd suit.

His own eyes again wandered to her shoulder. The bruise had barely healed, but that was not what caught his attention. There was a new scar right next to it. Actually, it looked more like a cleaned wound than anything.

The queen found herself surprised to finally see his expression change. His brows furrowed as he looked at her shoulder. Rhaella did not need to look to know what he was looking at. This time, she didn't even try to hide. What was the point? He had already seen her scars. And it's not as if he could do anything about it.

No one could. Not even those sworn to protect her.

His now-responsive eyes locked gazes with hers. Rhaella had a small feeling in her chest as she realized her scars alone made this man finally seem to react like a normal person. An almost childlike optimism overcame her thoughts. ' _Perhaps he can do something,_ ' she thought hopefully, before reality hit her. All hope of salvation was gone as her mind started thinking rationally. No one could stop the king from doing as he likes. No one dared.

Suit noticed how her eyes looked thoughtful one second, then hopeful, before finally turning morose again.

Suit's mind wend through the possibilities for the reasons. ' _She looked at me with hope after some thinking. She probably thought I could help her with something, something most likely to do with her scars. Most definitely the one who gave them to her, but then the hope was gone. Like I suddenly couldn't help._ '

His mind quickly tried to think of someone who strangers would assume he couldn't anything to, even after showing them how his weapon worked. In the end, only one person came to mind.

The king himself.

' _I could use this to my advantage. I should ask her later if she needs help. Right now, she looks a bit busy._ '

All these thoughts only took about two seconds for everyone else. Not long enough for their gaze lock to turn awkward.

Without having to be ordered, Suit backed away to make way for Rhaella. Her eyes lingered on him in sadness until she turned to walk from where he came from with the two kingsguard knights at her heel.

As Suit stared at them walking away, his mind went through the possibilities of what the king could be doing to her. Among them were one he found extremely despicable. The possibility of it infuriated him enough as it did. But if it turned out to be true? Not even he himself could predict his actions.

* * *

 **Several hours later**

Rhaella walked back to her quarters with the two so-called _protectors_ shadowing her every step. But she couldn't blame them for not doing anything. He was the king. A mad king at that. Trying to stop him would result in nothing but their agonizing demise. As they arrived, Rhaella opened the door to her chambers. Fear and anxiety gripped her heart as she expected to see Aerys already waiting for her. Relief rushed through her as she realized no one was there. The maids had thankfully lit candles to light up where the moonlight didn't strike.

The relief was short lived as she realized she would have to wait for him to come to her chambers. It was inevitable. Jaime and Jonothor stood guard on their respective sides of the door as Rhaella walked inside of the room. Closing the door behind her, she proceeded to walk over to the other side of the bed and sit on the bedside. She closed her eyes as tears threatened to fall from her eyes as she remembered the things her own brother had done to her.

"Aerys did this, didn't he?" A voice was heard saying behind her, sounding like more of a statement. Rhaella gasped in surprise and fear as she jumped to her feet and span around. She couldn't see who it was, but the voice and its accent was unmistakable.

"I have no intentions of harming you. So I would appreciate it if you would not scream," his voice calmly requested. Rhaella breathed heavily and quickly, her nervousness evident. Should she really trust this man so easily? It's not as if he could do anything worse to her that Aerys hasn't already done. She decided to hear him out, her small foolish glimmer of hope returning to her.

Rhaella stared at him as he moved out of the shadows, moonlight lighting up his face. It was neutral, just like always. "Aerys gave you those?" He asked as he motioned his head to her shoulder.

Rhaella closed her eyes at the memories before opening them and nodded her head, "He did. There are many more."

"I'm guessing the others are under your dress. Where no one can see them." Rhaella said nothing. "What does he do to you exactly?" Yet again nothing. She could hear him sigh, "I can't help you if you don't tell me the problem."

Her eyes widened in surprise, "Y- you're… you're going to help me..?" Soon, the hope she felt started becoming less and less foolish.

Suit nodded, "That's what you wanted, isn't it?" Rhaella once again found herself surprised at how much he knows. Seems every glance he makes he reads people like an open book.

Rhaella turned around before slowly walking to the edge of her balcony and placing her hands on the railings. Suit slowly followed and watched as she stared off at her city while she spoke, "I… I want the pain to stop. I want the tormenting memories purged from my mind, I want to feel joy instead of this… painfully dull and agonizingly grey life. This hopelessness, anxiety and sadness… I want it all gone. I want to be able to breath freely once more, I want to be able to come to my bedchambers without the fear of another one of _his_ visits." By the time she was done, tears had fallen down her cheeks, reflecting the moonlight.

It was clear Suit she was suffering from clinical depression from the way she was describing her feelings. The cause was quite obviously the abuse she suffered from her husband-and-brother. He suddenly realized her words, "Wait, _visits_?"

Rhaella was surprised to hear confusion in his voice. Seems her words had affected this seemingly emotionless man with an actual emotion, even if it was only confusion. Yet she was too saddened by the thoughts of Aerys' visits to even care. What did make her react to him was when she felt his gloved hand on her shoulder, gently turning her to face him, his brows furrowed and his eyes firm.

"Rhaella… what is Aerys doing to you?" Suit spoke, even referring to her by her first name instead of title in an attempt to seem genuinely concerned. What surprised himself was that it didn't feel like he was _attempting_ to be genuine. Was he… was he actually genuinely concerned for this woman? A woman he'd barely known at all? No, that couldn't be possible… could it?

Before he could continue his line of thought, Rhaella's tears began falling freely like a tiny waterfall in her eyes as she closed them and faced the ground, "He… he visits my chambers every night and he… takes me."

Suit's other hand clenched into a fist in anger, yet he could not be shocked. He expected this. Yet he was still furious.

Rhaella continued, her voice thick and sobbing, her arms gripping herself tightly as if she was trying to protect herself, "He's like a beast in human skin. He bites, mauls, and claws away at my skin and breasts. It's a fucking nightmare every night, except it's actually happening. I pray to the gods every time to wake me up, yet it never happens. I still feel the pain and humilitation, I still hear his laughter and grunts as he-" Rhaella could continue no longer as a wracking sob jarred her body. Suit's eyes widened in genuine shock now. He'd seen rape happen before his very eyes, and he punished the assailant accordingly, yet never had he even _heard_ of one so brutal. Rhaella felt her knees weaken as she fell to the ground.

Suit's lightning reflexes caught her in his arms and he began to lower her to her knees as she sobbed on his shoulder.

What should he do? He had never comforted someone before. Fuck! He should have planned ahead even more! Of course a breakdown was to be expected if someone was being abused! He should have expected this!

Suit slowly placed his arms around her in a gentle embrace before his hand went to the back of her head in comfort. He allowed her a few more seconds of crying until he slowly lifted her to her feet, letting her cry on his shoulder still, before walking her over to the bedside and sitting on it next to her.

They stayed like this for minutes, with Suit slowly rubbing her back comfortingly, and rather awkwardly. Thankfully, Rhaella didn't notice. When she had finally stopped crying, she leaned from his shoulders to wipe her eyes, "Forgive me. I should not have spoken so vulgarly, not broken down in tears. It was not very… royal of me."

Suit stared at her before shaking his head slowly, "Never apologize for something like that. It's good to let it out. Emotions are not meant to be proper or royal."

Rhaella brandished a small smile on her lips in gratitude, "In any case, I apologize for ruining your suit."

"You didn't."

This time it was Rhaella's turn to be confused as she looked at his suit. He wasn't lying. It was spotless.

"H-how…" With the amount of tears that had fallen from her eyes, it was shocking that his suit hadn't been ruined, much less spotless.

"How is not important. I will tell you another time when more urgent matters are not present."

She nodded slowly, "Yes… yes, of course." She stared at the ground in front of her before looking back at him, "So… will you take care of… him?"

"Kill?" He casually and calmly asked.

Her eyes widened as she almost panicked, "No, no! Just… just make him stop. But no killings. I don't care if you talk him out of it, miraculously, or if you intimidate him into stopping. Just no killing… please."

He stared into her eyes for an entire minute, unnerving her quite a bit, before finally standing up and staring straight forward, "Any idea where he is?"

"N-no. He should have been her by now to… visit me. It's rare he's this late, but the nights always end the same."

After not even five seconds, he already singled out a possibility, "He's most likely making his way here."

Rhaella said nothing for a few seconds until, "I know… he's almost always accompanied by kingsguards."

"They won't be a problem," he stated without missing a beat.

Rhaella's eyes widened as she stood up, "No, don't harm them. Please, they had no part in it."

Suit kept staring forward as he pulled out his pistol and inspected it, checking the magazine and making sure a bullet was in the chamber, "They left you to be raped and abused."

She moved in front of him, still not catching his eyes as her head only reached his neck, "They couldn't have done anything! If they had tried, they would have been burned to death. Then Aerys would have convinced himself that I ordered them to betray him and had me abused even worse."

Suit slowly lowered his eyes to meet hers. "…As you command."

Rhaella sighed out quietly in relief before asking, "How much?"

"Hm?" he asked as he cocked his gun, putting a bullet in the chamber and startling Rhaella slightly.

"You want gold, correct?" He shook his head as he gripped the silencer barrel with his fingers before spinning it. She found herself confused, "Then what do you wish for?"

"Nothing," he answered curtly while removing the barrel and placing it in its own specially made small holster.

"Then… why do you help me?"

His mind quickly fabricated a lie. Rhaella had a young son. Lady Ashara had seen his soft spot for children. She could have told someone, including Rhaella, of it. If not, she would in time. Perhaps he could use it to his advantage.

He quickly decide on this lie as he holstered his gun. "Your son… he loves his mother, as do all children. He needs his mother and he wants her happy. If he found out you were being raped and sexually tortured on a daily basis, it would sadden him extremely. I won't let a child experience something like that."

Rhaella found herself surprised once again by this stranger from another world. "I… You have my gratitude."

"Don't mention it."

Turning around and walking past the bed, Suit proceeded to open her bedroom doors and leaving, pleased that he managed to successfully lie to her.

Now all that was left was to take care of Aerys and he'd gain her trust. Well, maybe not completely.

But it was a start.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry for the slow updates. Seems high school found it a great idea to have a complete goddamn marathon of test and exams. And I do mean a complete marathon as in forcing me to have a study session each night of every week, and with every new week there was a different subject to have an exam on. And as you've probably guessed, it left me with little time to write, yet I always tried to jam in about a half hour of writing. The rest of the time when I wasn't studying or writing, I was having some time for myself and playing some games. Obviously need a break since it's no fun writing constantly.**

 **Anyways, now that the shitty (yet unfortunately for me, true) excuses have been all explained, I can talk about the story and how the rewrite is going. For those who are just joining us, this was a story that had existed quite a while ago. And since I felt a lot of things had been rushed, including the main characters character-development, I decided to rewrite it. I went with deleting old chapters and adding new ones so that they show up on the "update feed" if you could call it that.**

 **I've also given him a code name: "Suit". His actual name is known to everyone who read this before the rewrite, but since there will most likely be new viewers, I'll try to keep it hidden until i decide to reveal it. (Or until a reviewer decides to be a joker and reveal it anyways, but if they do i don't think I can do anything. Unless I can actually delete reviews, but that would be a pretty shitty feature considering how many writers could delete bad ones and keep good reviews. but i digress).**

 **If any of you have an OC (Original Character) you can send me, please do since I plan on having Suit create a brotherhood with Westerosian and/or Essosi people join.**

 **Here are the rules for the OC:**

 **They can't be too smart/strong, try to keep it realistic. Already have enough geniuses suggested to me.**

 **Tell me their names, age, gender, try to describe their looks, their personalities.**

 **Also their specialization (if they're good with a certain weapon or you could have them be engineers or smiths that maybe craft weapons for members of the brotherhood or even smart enough to create medicine and posions. I want there to be different roles for different OC:s, sort of like a guild. Think of the Dawnguard or the Dark Brotherhood from The Elder Scrolls. But the brotherhood won't be about assassinations, it'll be about preventing unnecessary casualties of war and protecting innocents from war. Although there will be a few assassinations, they won't be for gold like the Dark Brotherhood.)**

 **Tell me about their background as well. Where they came from and their motivation for joining the brotherhood.**

 **Everyone's OC:s will be credited to their own respective creators if they want them to be.**

 **Also for anyone who reads my other story, The Silent Storm which is another GOT story, I've written about 3000 words for the new chapter and plan to finish it before continuing the rewrite of this story. Wouldn't be fair to only concentrate on this story alone and keep the other fans waiting.**

 **But anyways, now that I have free time, I can finally continue writing at my normal pace.**

 **And sorry for making this chapter seem longer thanks to the very long author's note.**

 **I would absolutely love it if some of you could leave a review with tips to help me improve my writing, or simply leave it for motivation as a show of support. If you want to flame, go ahead and waste your time. But like I've said in other stories, they will be ignored.**

 **In any case, I hope you enjoyed these chapters so far.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Let's be honest, no one wants an apology so I won't bore you with that. Instead, I'll try to update more often. The truth of the matter is that I felt uninspired when writing this chapter, I had a writers block with absolutely no idea on how to go about it. So instead I decided to work on another story in which I actually had an idea on what to write.**

 **But I finally got past this writers block, as you can see.**

 **But anyways, I won't keep you.**

* * *

She sat on a decorated, wooden red chair and stared out from her large balcony. Large would be a bit of an understatement. It had room for a round table with chairs on both sides of it, same with the opposite side of the balcony. She stared at the city of King's Landing. Yet her mind was not on the city at all.

Aerys would not even look in her direction anymore when _he_ was around. Rhaella began to notice that he was absent in her room ever since she gave Suit his task that night. The next day, she woke up and as soon as she finished breaking her fast, she began hearing rumours of the king having been attacked. His little and ring finger on his left hand had been cut off and several of his teeth were missing, the bruises on his torso were hidden from the public and their existence was unknown until the maester had begun treating his wounds. Despite Aerys' paranoia and lunacy, he had to make an exception once and finally allow the maester to heal him. If he didn't for fear of being poisoned, he'd die anyway.

The Mad King almost suffered a panic attack when they tried to inquire as to who maimed him. He frantically insisted that he fell and lost his fingers in an accident using cutlery. No one was stupid enough to believe him, yet they had no choice but to do nothing. Whatever happened to him- _who_ ever happened to him… terrified him.

The frantic, yet rather transparent attempts to convince them he suffered an accident was disturbing to the Kingsguard. At least to some. Jaime felt satisfaction at knowing he suffered for what he did to the queen and the people he burned. Of course, he kept quiet about this. Rhaella also noticed that Aerys' visit quickly became less and less frequent, as after every time he took her, the next day he would carry a new bruise or wound. Yet every time he _did_ visit her, the abuses were worse. He was rougher, clawing and biting at her more. Among… other cruel torments that she would not speak of. As if he was taking out pent up anger on her. She knew what the anger was born from. Aerys knew she sent Suit after him. Thankfully, for Suit, fear was also born.

Rumours began circulating as to who the attacker was. These rumours began not long after the maester had healed him. Oh, what was she saying? They were basically confirmed, yet no one spoke of it. A stranger from another world arrives in The Red Keep and suddenly a week later the king is brutalized and close to death? No one had the courage to ask Suit. Nor did they know _how_ to. They couldn't just go up to him in the middle of the day, in a place such as King's Landing that's filled with spies, and ask "Where you the one who maimed the king?"

She summoned him to her chambers to speak. During their conversation, to Rhaella's surprise, he announced that she was under his protection. Unbeknownst to her, it was no more than an attempt to gain her favour. But it was a successful attempt so she had no idea. Suit had begun disappearing, his black box where he kept his sorcerous weapon nowhere to be found either. Suddenly, reports of a young man in a strange suit began going from inn to inn, accepting bounty offers and suddenly, every single target he accepted were found dead with their heads exploded. The wall or ground behind their corpses splattered with blood and brains. No doubt the work of his magic. Yet somehow, despite these bounties being claimed, he seemed to appear out of thin air again, no trace of a struggle, no blood, nothing to indicate that he even left The Red Keep other than his absence.

This had helped strengthen the theory that Suit was an assassin, some going as far as to say he's a faceless man. But those rumours were quickly silenced as the fact that he was from another world was brought up in discussions. Rhaella had a feeling he was far, far more dangerous than a faceless man. There was no trace on his victims' bodies either, not a single thing. Not even a strand of hair. Suit had also made sure to keep his bullet shells with him, his meticulous nature refusing to allow him to be sloppy in any way. After all, he also had a reputation to build up.

His knowledge of agriculture and blacksmithing that had been shared with the maester was sent in the form of several letters to the Citadel in Oldtown. The knowledge was well received and had already begun spreading. But it would take months before everyone could begin adapting to these new methods and technology, and years for the people to begin mastering them. The Citadel had offered a reward to Suit. The exact amount was not shared by Suit when he read the letter, but he had accepted it after asking if they knew what a bank was. Once he knew of the Iron Bank of Braavos' existence, he sent a letter back asking them to deposit the reward there in his name.

He had also begun visiting the orphanage. Though the reason for that was an enigma, as everything else about the young man seemed.

Yet one thing was certain about him. He was without a doubt more social with children than any adult. He'd begun interacting with Viserys and Rhaenys. It had first happened when he came across the two in the same room. Young Viserys had taken her wooden lady from her and mocked her.

"Give it back!" Rhaenys yelled as he tried to grab for it.

Viserys backed up towards the doorway, where unknown to him, Suit was standing. "Take it."

Suddenly, he realized he wasn't holding anything in his hands when he looked up. He turned to look behind and was startled to see _him_ holding the toy. That stranger whose gaze was inescapable. Viserys was among the crowd, desperately trying to see what was happening. He saw him standing in front of the iron throne, being questioned by his father. His eyes scanned every single person in the room. Even him. And even though he would never admit it, Viserys was terrified by him.

The child seemed petrified while Rhaenys looked relieved. He crouched slowly, even then still too tall to match Viserys' height. Suit stared with an unreadable expression, his cold eyes staring into Viserys'. "That wasn't very nice," his cold, accented voice said. Viserys was frozen still, his lips trembling as he found himself speechless. Suit slowly held out the toy to him before his eyes softened, "Be kind to her. Take this and give it back. Apologize. Do the right thing. Okay?"

His eyes widened in surprise before nodding slowly. He took the toy before his head hung in shame. He slowly walked over to Rhaenys before holding out her toy, "I'm sorry."

She took it hesitantly, unsure if Viserys would pull away at the last second. When she realized he wouldn't, she took it from him before nodding, "It's alright. Thank you for giving it back."

He was surprised by her answer and stared at her as she walked past him and thanked Suit with a hug. Suit looked taken aback and did not move for several seconds before returning the embrace. She pulled away and smiled at him before leaving the room. He stared after her before turning around towards Viserys. He slowly walked over to him, every step making him more frightened. His dress shoes' sound as they clacked against the stone floor echoing in the room. He crouched once more and looked him straight in the eyes, "How did it feel?"

Viserys froze, not prepared for the sudden question, "W-what?"

"How did it feel when you apologized?"

He swallowed nervously. "I felt… scared and… ashamed."

"How did it feel when she forgave you and thanked you?"

He stared at him and didn't answer until a few seconds had passed, "Relieved and happy…" Viserys realized what he'd just said. He felt happy when being nice to others and earning their kindness. Because it was genuine. It wasn't false smiles like it was when he demanded their loyalty and kindness for simply being a Targaryen.

Suit stared back before nodding slowly, "Feels good, does it not?" He nodded slowly. "Will you do me a favour, child?"

"What?"

"Be kind. Earn peoples kindness and love. Don't demand it. Treat others well and the next time I speak with you, I wish you to tell me how it felt. Can you do that for me?"

He nodded in response, his previous fear absent. He was very surprised when a kind smile appeared on the stranger's face. He seemed like a completely different person when he was expressionless and staring. But he had the smile of a kind elder brother. Suit left him alone, frozen in his spot as confusion riddled his young mind.

After that, Rhaella had been surprised to see that her young child Viserys, who had previously shown arrogance and contempt for the servants and treated them as inferiors, was now being surprisingly polite and courteous, thanking the servants when bringing them his food and even apologizing if his temper got the better of him, as he was prone to outbursts of anger. He still had a proud and arrogant attitude at times. But at least he was making progress. Rhaella had expressed her gratitude towards Suit, who only nodded curtly.

She couldn't tell if he was a humble man, or simply uncaring. She liked to think it was the former. That he cared about her and appreciated her gratitude. She knew that no one deserved to be absent of love in their life, ruthless assassin or not. After all, he'd begun helping her family as if it was his own. He'd practically begun raising Viserys, teaching him kindness. Of course, it had only been a week ago since he first spoke to Viserys, but after those seven days, they'd spoken again. Two weeks later and Suit had become more of a father to the young child than Aerys had ever been. Which didn't say much by itself, and they definitely did not have much of a father-son relationship, but it was clear that their bond was only improving.

Rhaenys had begun seeing Suit as an uncle since he spent almost as much time with her during his free time as Rhaegar did. But she couldn't tell if he did it just to gain her favour. The man was unpredictable and unreadable. What if he's only doing this to gain power?

"Mother?"

She gasped in surprise as she almost jumped from her seat and turned around swiftly, her hair swinging. She held a hand over her heart and closed her eyes as she breathed out in relief, "Rhaegar, you mustn't scare me like that."

He had an apologetic look on his face, "Forgive me." She noticed he was absent armour, which was why he couldn't hear him walking up behind her. "Was it him?"

Her face reflected how she was feeling. Perplexed. "I don't understand what you are asking?"

"I've heard rumours. A man with a queer suit in possession of a black box has been collecting nearly every bounty as soon as the bounty papers are placed up by the guards. Is it this... _Suit?_ "

She nodded slowly, "I'd imagine it to be him, yes."

He hummed, the considering look returning to his face. "There are reports of a new criminal group in Flea Bottom rising. Commander Martyn Rivers says that they'll become a problem if not dealt with swiftly."

She looked confused, "Where did this come from suddenly?"

"Suit could help. I'll offer him a reward for their deaths."

Her eyes widened, "You would hire an assassin?"

"Is there a difference between an assassin or a sellsword? At least assassins won't use their title as an excuse to pillage and rape anyone innocent simply because they were in the way." Rhaella stared before conceding with a nod.

"Besides, I've already sent for him."

Surprise crossed her features, "Here?"

"Aye. We'll simply have to be patie-"

"You called for me?"

This time, even Rhaegar started, gasping in surprise, before his cheek had a barely-visible tint of red from embarrassment. Suit stood there with his arms crossed, an inquisitive eyebrow raised. "Aye, I did. I have an offer for you."

Suit's intelligent mind immediately deduced said offer. "Contract?"

Rhaegar looked surprised at how swiftly he came to the conclusion. "I thought you were a bounty hunter."

He shook his head, "Only side projects to build reputation. Bounties are public. Contracts are private."

"Then I suppose you could call this a contract."

"Where is the contract?"

Rhaegar remained silent in confusion a couple of seconds before speaking, "I'm afraid I don't follow."

Suit stared, "Make a contract. Write down the targets, and the reward."

"Is my word not enough?"

"No one's word is enough. I do business my way."

Rhaegar let out a humourless chuckle. "Killing is a simply a business to you?"

Suit tilted his head slightly as he observed him. Was he judging him? He would have commented on it, but that would imply that the prince's opinion made a difference to him. "I'm a hitman. I deal in death." He uncrossed his arms to his sides before turning around and walking towards the door. "Don't waste my time. Next time, be prepared with a contract."

Rhaegar frowned in anger, before anger turned to surprise as Rhaella quickly walked past him and towards Suit. She didn't want her son and the man she'd begun to become fond of to be at odds. She exclaimed, "Wait!" Suit did, but did not turn around. She stopped behind him. "Please, Rhaegar is my son. He will be better prepared next time, but can you make an exception this one occasion? Accept the contracts in words."

He slowly turned around to face her, staring down into her eyes. She noticed how tall he was now. And despite what they were currently doing, she couldn't help but notice how young, yet raggedly handsome he was. But the thought was pushed away. "I told you. That's not how I do business."

Her eyes were pleading, "Please? This one time… For me."

He kept staring in silence. He usually wouldn't do this, but he had to keep up the illusion that he cared about her. He closed his eyes before sighing silently. He opened them again, "This time only."

She breathed out in relief. Perhaps Suit and her son didn't need to be enemies. Suit walked past her and to the balcony before sitting down at the chair next to the left table. He sat sideways, placing his left arm on the table, his gloved hand motioning for Rhaegar to sit on the other chair. Once he did, Rhaella came to the balcony again, the breeze causing her hair to flail slightly before the wind calmed down.

Suit spoke, turning his head to face Rhaegar. "The targets?"

"The Commander of The City Watch has reported that a new criminal group has begun to grow in Flea Bottom and is sure to spread to other places soon if not dealt with swiftly."

He had a blank look on his face before blinking. "You wish me to wipe out an entire gang?"

Rhaegar shook his head, "Not necessarily. Only the important ones, the leaders. Just enough to disband the group."

Suit stared forward again, away from the prince. "Cut off the head of the serpent and its body will decay," he said quietly, yet loud enough for the other two to hear. He nodded slowly before turning his head again. "The leaders' names?"

"The Commander has yet to acquire such information."

"The name of the gang?"

Rhaegar suddenly froze in realization. He realized he knew nothing about the gang. He suddenly felt stupid, like a naïve and foolish child again. His voice reflected the embarrassment, "I… don't know that either."

Suit stared. Rhaegar and Rhaella felt their spirits drop as they expected him to refuse. Suit turned his head to stare forward again. Just when they both thought he would stand up and leave, they were surprised when he instead said, "Give me two days."

Their eyes widened, and the prince inquired after he finally shook himself out of his surprised stupor, "Two days? You know next to nothing of this gang, are you sure you can handle it?"

"The first day is to find out their identities and how many there are. The second day is when I learn their routine, when they wake up, when they eat, when they do whatever this gang does, and finally when they sleep. The third day is when your guards will find their corpses."

They were both speechless, not knowing what to say in response. It seems this man has an abundance in experience. For he did not speak with arrogance. He spoke as if stating cold facts. It was disturbing to see a young man seem so experienced in death.

"Reward?"

Rhaegar was snapped out of his stupor again and spoke. "One hundred gold dragons for each of the leaders head. One silver moon for each known and dangerous criminal of the gang, and two copper stars for each common thugs. Let us hope you are adept in counting."

Suit kept staring forward, ignoring the last comment. "How will it be done?"

His brows furrowed, "You are the assassin are you not?"

Suit slowly turned his head again to look at him. "That's not what I meant. Do you want it done clean… or do you want to send a message?"

Both his and his mother's eyes widened. What did he mean by that? Did they want to know? Rhaegar doubted it. He wanted to take care of the infection before it spreads, not spread fear into the people he will one day rule. His voice was silent as he said, "Clean…"

Suit kept staring unnervingly into his eyes before he suddenly raised his gloved hand towards him. Rhaegar glanced at it before slowly accepting it. Suit released his hand after they shook it before standing up and walking past Rhaella, glancing at her as he did so. As he arrived the double doors, his hands parted them. Rhaella suddenly called out behind him. "Suit?!"

He paused before his hands released the handle to the doors and his arms fell to his sides. He turned around and looked at her with a neutral expression. "Yes?"

She seemed to hesitate slightly, confusing Suit, before she finally said, "Thank you…"

He stared at her, his face no longer blank but unreadable. He bowed his head slightly before turning around and walking.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Some of this stuff may seem confusing to new readers, for example the part when Suit is said to visit the orphanage. It will all make sense later.**

 **On a small note, credit to Borgen1337 for correcting me about there not being any glass in the world of Westeros.**

 **And in response to a reviewer who asked if Suit really has a name: Yes. He does, as I stated in the previous Author's Note.**

 **But in any case, I hope you enjoyed this little chapter.**

 **Leave a review for encouragement or constructive criticism on my writing, and follow/favorite if you're enjoying this story so far. (Or don't, I'm a writer, not the police.)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Just a quick sidenote before we begin, just to get it out of the way.**

 **I've aged Rhaella, Rhaegar and Elia down by four years.**

 **...**

 **That was it.**

 **Now go on, start reading!**

* * *

Dagon Pyke threaded through the crowd of people like a seamstress' needle in the Street of Silk. He was a man nearing his fortieth year. The ugly and crooked scars hidden beneath his clothes were a hidden testament to his familiarity with violence. He looked pale, crabbed and wrinkly. He himself wore a hood to hide his face from authorities. His years had not been kind to him as his hair began to fall, his teeth growing crooked. A foul man, outside and inside. He wore a grey cape he once payed the iron price for when he murdered a knight outside a brothel. He was in fact one of the leaders of the new gang rising in Flea Bottom. He handled the muscle in their group, taking care of violence while one of the two other leaders handled their 'merchandise' and the other their income. Dagon was not known for being the brain, but rather the brawn of their operations.

But that did not mean he was a fool. He noticed the cloaked man stalking him the day before. And observing him the day before that. He also noticed him following him in the streets he now walked. He'd told the one of the other two leaders, a lorathi who seemed to speak in third person, as all lorathi did, and they'd sprung a trap. Now all he had to do was lead the man to their main base of operations. He made sure to make him think he didn't notice, making a beeline towards the abandoned building where he set his snare.

It didn't take long for him to arrive as he found himself standing in front of a door. He would walk through that door first, closing it behind him as to not allow the man who'd been following him to see several other thugs waiting in the room with daggers and short swords. The man would follow and his men would come from behind, stabbing and slashing at him. He prepared himself with a deep breath before a grin appeared on his face, revealing his ugly and rotten teeth, and walked inside. As he opened the door, he realized that the room was rather dark. He dismissed it, the other leader probably wanted the element of surprise.

He was confused to see a seat in the middle of the room, a man sitting on it. He could not make out his features, as darkness covered him entirely. He slowly stepped towards him, tension and nervousness growing with every step. This was not part of the plan. He soon noticed that the man was unmoving. Dead still. His instincts screamed at him in warning and he jumped around when the door behind him opened and allowed the sunlight to reveal what the darkness had hid. He saw the feet of his men's corpses, their blood pooling around their hidden bodies. He saw the cloaked man standing in the doorway, holding a short sword of his own. The man charged him as he raised his blade, and Dagon pulled out the dagger from his waist sheath.

He ducked under a swing as the cloaked man cut the dead body behind him on the chair before slashing at his stomach and proceeding to take a step behind his attacker, going into a stance. His opponent grunted at the pain before attempting to retaliate by holding the sword reversed and rotating his body while stabbing at him. Dagon was far from fast, his strong suit being his strength. So instead of attempting to sidestep, he gripped the cloaked man's wrist before hitting him in the face with his sword's pommel, dazing him. He ripped the sword from his grip and threw it to the ground before raising his dagger and striking down on his shoulder. His opponent blocked his stab with his forearm, and the two struggled against each other.

Dagon suddenly released his dagger and it fell down before his other hand suddenly gripped it mid-air. He pulled his left arm back before thrusting violently into the cloaked man's belly. His victim could do nothing but be wide eyed as all air left his lung, before he fell to the ground, swiftly bleeding to death.

He spat on his corpse before crouching and reaching down to pull the hood down. He recoiled back into a straight stance as he saw that the man was no other than the lorathi. His expression turned furious and he kicked his body, "Fucking traitor!"

He panted after having kicked his corpse several times, taking out his anger on him. As he stopped and regained his breath, he suddenly remembered the dead man behind him. He turned around and saw that the man had a bag over his head. He slowly stepped forward before his hand gripped the bag and pulled it off to reveal the third leader. "What the fuck!?" The man was none other than his own brother. He shook his brother's shoulder, "No! Fuck!" He turned around, his scowl furious. "You betrayed us both, fucking foreigner!"

He was suddenly gripped by his collar and pulled to the wall next to him and slammed up against with his back. He felt a cold, curved blade up against his throat. His eyes widened as a young, tall man wearing foreign clothing stared into his eyes with his own cold, emerald ones.

"Where is the merchandise?" he asked.

"What? How do you know about that!?"

He pressed the blade closer, threatening to draw blood. "Your brother was very talkative when I was done with him. Where are the slaves?"

Dagon roared in fury as he sent his fist sailing towards the man's jaw. He was shocked when the man's hand moved inhumanly fast, like a blur, and gripped his hand before calmly snapping it. He shouted out in agony as his wrist was broken, bone sticking out. "AGH! You son of a fucking whore!"

He removed the blade before his other hand slammed against his throat and gripped tightly before lifting him up the wall effortlessly. How was this boy so strong!? He looked barely above twenty, and yet he lifted a large man like Dagon without a bother in the world! "I won't ask again. Not with words."

Dagon struggled to speak, sputtering and choking as he gripped the man's wrist with his functioning hand, "Rel…ease me…" He gasped. "And… I'll show… you…"

The man released his titan-like grip on his throat, and he fell to his knees gasping and coughing as he regained his breath. But he received no reprieve as the back of his neck was gripped by his fingers and was lifted to his feet. The man's accented voice spoke coldly. "I know this building is where you planned with your… colleagues. This is your headquarters. Or rather it was, before everyone was killed, including your lieutenants. And your ledger was burned. I shouldn't forget to mention that the slavers you bought from also had their throats opened."

Dagon was in shock, and he realized what had happened. This man not only managed to manipulate him and pit the unknowing lorathi against him, their entire guild was now in ruins. Even the foreign slavers were now dead. His voice failed at hiding his fear. "How?"

His grip tightened on his neck, "You will not speak." He was suddenly shoved forward. "Now. Show me where you keep your slaves."

Dagon quickly took him further into the abandoned building. He moved around corridor to corridor until he arrived in a lit up room. He moved the carpet frantically in fear of the foreign man behind him. He revealed a large wooden hatch, almost as wide as the carpet that hid it. He opened it to reveal a set of stairs leading down under the building. He led him down, taking a torch off the wall to light the way. As they walked down the stairs, they arrived at a hallway of stone with a pair of doors on the other end. Dagon suddenly took of sprinting towards it while shouting, "GUARDS! INTRUDER!"

The doors burst open to reveal four guards, two of them wielding swords while the other two held spears in their hands. Dagon stopped once he ran past them, holding his broken wrist, and turned around to point at the man in the odd suit with a fearful look, "Intruder! Kill him, now!"

They glanced between each other with uneasy looks. Dagon Pyke was their strongest and most skilled warrior. How could a young man like that foreigner possibly frighten him? They found themselves slightly demoralized before they charged at the expressionless man staring at them from other end of the hallway. Dagon closed the doors behind them quickly and looked around. He was where they kept all their 'merchandise'. Men, women were locked in cages like animals in captivity. They were all from different lands, Westerosi, Summer Islanders, Lyseni, Yi Tish and many others. Despite their diversity, they were still in small amounts. Some of them were bed slave, women taken from their homes and forced to become pleasure toys for whoever bought her on the market. Others were men, some made into eunuchs. Either mundane tasks or chores were their duties, or they would be a trainer for their master's children.

He shook himself out of his staring as he heard the sound of clattering steel, yells and shouts, the sound of fighting echoing into the room before everything suddenly went quiet. He stared at the door, still gripping his wrist, and waited. Seconds went by slowly for him as he waited for a sound. The door suddenly opened, and Dagon took a step back. He breathed out in relief when he saw two of the guards standing. That relief was short lived when he noticed that they were staring forward blankly.

His eyes widened in fear once their bodies suddenly went limp and they fell on their faces, revealing the man standing there with a curved knife in his gloved hand. Surprisingly, he had no blood on him except for his face which was splattered with red across. The man glanced around the room and saw the men and women in cages as they stared at him in fear. It wasn't until he finally saw a young girl no older than five covered in nothing but dirty rags that anger flashed in his eyes for a second, before he regained composure and suddenly strode over to him with a menacing cold stare. Dagon tripped over his own foot as he attempted to back away in his panic.

He frantically attempted to crawl away, yet his broken wrist didn't help, and the man was only getting closer. He desperately attempted to plead and bargain with the man. "No, don't! We can share, we'll both be rich! I swear you will be drowning in gold if you let me-"

His words were cut off when the man's arm moved like a blur as he slashed his throat, Dagon's eyes widening as he held his throat.

* * *

 **Suit**

He watched the ugly man's eyes as they widened with fear and began to fade swiftly as he choked on his blood, his hands desperately grasping to try and stop the bleeding. But he wasn't living to see another daylight. That much was sure. After thirty seconds of listening to the man choke and gargle on his own crimson life essence, all light finally faded from the man's eyes.

Suit looked around and ignored all the men and women until his eyes finally found the girl hiding fearfully in the corner of her small cage. He slowly walked over as he sheathed his Karambit into his shoulder holster. The child looked more and more fearful with every clack of his shoes as he got closer. He finally stopped in front of the cage and crouched before examining the lock. After a few seconds, he noticed that it was old and rusted. He suddenly pulled on it hard, opening it with ease before removing it as it let out a tiniest thud as it landed on the stone floor.

He opened the cage and the child cowered even more, huddling into her small corner. He noticed that her skin was brown and her eyes as well.

"Do you understand me?" He suddenly asked. The child stared at him with wide eyes before hesitating as her mouth opened and closed.

She finally muttered to him, "Little."

He tilted his head slightly at her. It was clear she was not westerosi, if her skin colour did not already attest to that. It was far too dark to be dornish, he thought. Lewyn Martell resembled more to be of Egyptian complexion. But it varied depending on where in Dorne. Lady Ashara and her brother, Arthur were of valyrian descent, their skin light and their eyes violet, despite their blood not being as strong as the Targaryen line. But the variety did not include those of black skin. She must be from the summer isles.

It was clear to him that she understood little. Hence her response. "Are you afraid, child?"

She nodded slowly, clearly still wary of him. "Bad man."

"Me?"

She shook her head before her arm slowly straightened and pointed towards the now-dead gang leader. He followed her finger and looked at his dead corpse before turning back. She looked reluctant before asking while pointing at Suit, "Good man?"

He stared at her, his face and eyes unreadable. He was far from a good man. And he knew it well. He shook his head, "No."

She looked disappointed and confused before suddenly asking, "Help?"

This time, he allowed a small smile to form on his lips as he nodded, "Yes."

She looked relieved before surprise overcame her as he held out his hand slowly. She accepted it and allowed him to guide her out of her cage. He placed his arms under her waist before lifting her. She placed her head on his shoulder as he stood up and walked to the hallway. He would send the guards to free these other slaves. The child was a priority.

"No, please," A weak, soft voice spoke. Suit stopped in his tracks and looked to his side to see a beautiful woman lying in her cage. She had pulled her weak torso up by gripping the bars and lifting herself. He saw that she was naked, but was unaffected by it as he kept staring into her dark eyes. Her skin was just like that of the child in his arms, chocolate brown. Her hair was long and dark, her breasts full, as were her hips and leg. Her hair was messy and she looked like that of royalty, gorgeous and regal yet ruined. She looked exhausted, her eyes droopy. She looked too weak to move her lips without struggling. Yet she still managed to look beautiful with full lips, sharp chin and cheekbones.

As his eyes scanned her entire body, he saw white fluid between her legs and some on the floor beside her. Semen, he realized. He did not looked fazed by it as his expression was as firm, his eyes just as cold, unmoving and unfeeling. It was clear what they had been doing to the poor woman before he arrived.

Yet surprisingly, she knew the common English tongue. Westerosi, he corrected himself mentally.

"Please. Don't take my daughter," She said as she pressed herself against the bars with a pleading look on her face. Her eyes were too tired to keep open right. "I will obey your every command… I won't resist, take me if you must, but please… don't take my daughter from me…"

His firm expression had turned unreadable as the girl in his arm noticed her, concern in her eyes as she reached out her hand towards her mother. She exclaimed something in her language, no doubt calling out for her mother. The woman in the cage reached a weak arm between the bars and reached out her own hand, weakly calling out her daughter's name, "Lara…"

Suit stared at them, unable to keep his eyes from softening at seeing the desperation. His heartstrings pulled, screaming at him to allow the mother and daughter to be reunited. He hurriedly placed the girl on her feet before she ran to grasp her mother's hand. The girl looked close to tears as their hands grasped, and the woman breathed out in relief. She whispered comforting words in her native tongue, and the child nodded. Suit walked over to her cage, and the two looked up at him. The woman had fear in her eyes before they turned to reflect her resolve. She would endure anything for her child. If it meant allowing this man to force himself upon her, so be it. She just hoped her daughter did not need to be a witness to such a thing.

They both jumped and gasped in surprise and shock when he punched the lock suddenly, breaking it off completely, before he opened the cage. He confused them when instead of moving inside, he turned back and walked over to the dead man's corpse, his hands swiftly and smoothly searching him. His hands froze before suddenly pulling a keyring out. He moved back to the woman and into her cage. She stared up at him, her confusion clear. She was further surprised when he held the keyring to her. "Free the others. I will bring the guards to help."

She slowly realized that this man was no slaver. He was here to help her! She took it from him and Suit turned and lifted the girl into her arms once more. This time, to _his_ surprise, she grasped her small arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. He slowly rubbed her back before turning around.

The woman attempted to stand, but instead ended up exclaiming loudly in pain. He turned to look at her, and she locked eyes with him, her own pleading. "Please, help me. I cannot move my legs… Hand me my child. You can open the cages."

He stared. A logical plan. And the child would feel more comfortable with her mother. But still… he was reluctant to let a child see her mother that way. What if she had been witness to her mother's rapes? He stopped his hands from trembling in anger, and regained his composure, the logical part of his mind taking over once more. He lowered the child and allowed her to go to her mother before he took the keys himself.

As he turned, he saw that the slaves had been observing him, waiting to see what he would do. They now looked hopeful as they no longer cowered in their corner, instead standing closer to the doors of their cages. He began walking from enclosure to enclosure, unlocking them and allowing the slaves to leave. They all gathered at the hallway and waited for him to open the final cage.

When he did, he strode back to the dead gangster's body before ripping his grey cape off and moved inside the woman's cage. He kneeled before grabbing two ends of the cape and she gasped gently in surprise when he wrapped his arms around her waist before tying the cape behind her, covering her naked legs and nether region. He soon removed his suit jacket and guided her weak arms into it and placing it on her shoulders. Suit finally closed the button to conceal her breasts. She still showed abundant cleavage, but it was better than being completely naked. She stared at him with an unreadable expression before whispering, "Thank you…"

He ignored her as he took his gloves off and placed them in his back pocket. He unbuttoned the wrists of his white dress shirt before rolling his sleeves above his elbows, exposing a wristband on his left hand, and moved behind her. He placed her arm over his shoulders and his own arms snaked themselves under her back and legs. She let out a tiny and weak yelp as he hoisted her with ease.

He escorted her slowly from her cage, taking care not to hit her head against the jail as her young girl followed Suit closely, not leaving his side. The now-freed slaves followed him from behind, all while taking care not to trip over the dead bodies of the guards.

* * *

 **Later**

The platinum haired prince marched through the streets with Commander Martyn Rivers and his gold-cloaks following suit. A guard came to the immediately and told them of what had happened. He couldn't believe his ears. Slavery, in _his_ city! Right under their goddamned noses! If it hadn't been for this… Suit, he would never have found out.

As Rhaegar turned a corner, he saw Suit absent of his jacket and instead wearing a shirt, sitting next to a dark-skinned beauty who was wearing his jacket. She too sat on a chair that had no doubt been brought out from the Inn they now stood outside of. She leaned against his shoulder, and looked exhausted. On his lap sat a young girl with skin colour identical to that of the woman. She leaned against his chest while playing with that odd thing that hung from his neck. Suit noticed and looked down at her before his hands moved to remove his tie and placed it around the girl's neck.

She smiled up at him as he tightened it around her neck, yet loosely enough for her to be comfortable wearing it, before folding his collar again. Rhaegar was surprised when Suit returned her smile with one of his own and gently ruffled her hair. He placed his right arm on her back before pulling her closer to him and she leaned her head on his chest, quietly toying with his tie.

In front of them were what he assumed to be the rest of the freed slaves, some who were willing being questioned by the guards and others being tended to by healers and nurses from the gold cloak barracks. Rhaegar moved until he stood in front of Suit. His smile faded as he locked gazes with the prince. Rhaegar offered the former slaves work in the Red Keep as servants and maids, and they all accepted. Suit requested he allow the woman next to him to be either Rhaella's or Elia's new handmaiden, to which he accepted.

When they arrived at the Red Keep, the wounded were tended to and were allowed rooms to rest in. There was only a matter of Suit's payment left.

He waited on the same balcony where he first accepted the contract. He was startled, but not surprised when he found that Suit had already arrived, and was keeping his mother company as he sat in front of her.

He hid behind the doorway and listened in. He heard his mother's voice, "Suit… I just heard what happened. I… I wish to give you my gratitude. For without you, those men and women would have lived their lives in fear and slavery."

Suit placed his hands on the table and bowed his head lightly, "There is no need for gratitude."

"But there is," She suddenly insisted. He hid his surprise at her answer, staying silent and allowing her to continue. "You have given these people hope. You saved them in their time of need, when danger was most dire. They're going to look up to you now." Suit remained silent as he processed her words and their implications. "Not only that, you kept the commoners safe from this group of criminals. _Everyone_ owes you their gratitude."

He stared before finally responding. "I didn't do it for them. I was paid to wipe out the gang, so I did."

"Except that you were not paid to free those slaves," She retorted calmly with a kind smile on her face. A rare smile, seeing as what her brother has been doing to her. "You _chose_ to save them."

To that, he had no argument. No comeback. Why did he save them? He could have simply taken the girl and her mother, leaving the rest in their cages. So why didn't he?

What Rhaella said next, shocked Rhaegar. She suddenly turned timid and shy as she looked at her own hands, clasped together in front of her on the table. "I… I also haven't forgotten what you've done for me. What you did to Aerys."

Rhaegar froze. So the rumours were true.

Suit responded, "But he still visits you. He's worse than before."

"And yet you persist, and you will keep beating him until he finally stops. I wish I could express my gratitude."

He stared at her. "Be happy. For yourself, and for your child. You both deserve better than what Aerys is giving you."

She smiled and stared into his eyes. Suit was confused. Why was she staring at him that way? She almost seemed… entranced. Perhaps she was simply tired. Rhaella did not notice his brows furrow in confusion and simply kept staring dreamily. This Suit had quickly gained her favour. He saved her from her torments, not completely. But her life was getting easier as she no longer looked over her shoulder in fear every day. He declared her to be his to protect. He risks the fury of the kingsguard knowingly for _her_. She had begun seeing him as her hero. Her own son has begun seeing him that way as well.

She was surprised when he suddenly said, "Come, Rhaegar."

His eyes widened. How long did he know he was hiding there for? Rhaella stared at the doorway in surprise as Rhaegar revealed himself. He stepped forward to the balcony and walked over. Suit stood up and faced him, still absent of his jacket.

"You were the one who beat my father?"

Rhaella stared at them as she grew nervous. Her nervousness only increased when Suit nodded in silent confirmation. The prince kept staring with an unreadable expression. He surprised them both, Suit especially, when he suddenly embraced him. Suit looked taken aback at the sudden gesture.

"You have my gratitude… for helping my mother when no one else would."

He simply stared ahead, wide eyed, before he slowly returned the embrace. "…Don't mention it."

Rhaegar let go and looked him in the eye. "Every day I wished I could have done something to help my mother other than words of comfort. You've done more for her than I could ever hope to do." He held out his hand to him. "I wish to put any differences, minor or large, aside."

Suit's eyes lingered on the hand before his own gripped it and shook as he nodded. When they let go, Suit sat down again. The prince brought a seat from the other table and placed it next to his mother before he seated himself on it. "As I said before, I hope you're adept at counting. How many have you killed?"

"All three leaders, thirteen known criminals and thirty one common thugs, totalling in three hundred gold dragons, thirteen silver moons and sixty two copper stars."

He and his mother stared at him with wide eyes. "Not much seems to escape you, does it?" He commented. Suit said nothing in response, and Rhaegar nodded, "As you wish. I will have your reward by the end of the day."

Suit nodded and stood up. "A pleasure doing business with you," was his farewell as he began to leave. Suddenly, as he walked, he called out, "And look on your bed stand for a paper!"

They both stood up and stared after him as he left the room. They exchanged looks before looking at Rhaella's bed stand. They saw a piece of paper and Rhaegar picked it up before his eyes began scanning its contents. His eyes widened slowly by the second. Rhaella noticed her son's look and spoke in concern, "Rhaegar, what's wrong?"

The prince stared at the paper before shaking himself out of his trance and looking at her. "This paper implicates Commander Martyn Rivers as an associate of the gang! He was the one who turned a blind eye to the slaver, and even partook in it! This shows every purchase he's made!" He suddenly held out the paper in front of her and pointed to the bottom of the paper's corner where Suit had written on. "Look, he's even written that this was a page he ripped from one of the leaders' ledger!"

Her eyes widened and they both locked eyes, staring. "Rhaegar, you must not allow this to go unpunished."

He frowned in anger and nodded firmly, "I won't. Believe that, mother."

He quickly turned and left the room, his stride hasty and furious.

* * *

 **A/N: What did you think? Suit has disrupted human trafficking in Westeros before it could spread and is slowly (and unknowingly) beginning to win over Rhaella's heart. Remember, if you've an OC you'd like to share, PM me. I won't promise I'll include it in my story, but I most likely will. Still not a guarantee though.**

 **Onto the reviews:**

 **Duesal Bladesinger: That means a lot to me, thank you!**

 **Rainsfere: He's DEFINITELY not a morally good character. I can say that it has something to do with his background, which I will reveal, along with his name, later.**

 **I hope you've all enjoyed this chapter.**

 **Leave a review for encouragement, or constructive criticism on my writing, and follow/favorite to keep yourselves up to speed when there's a new chapter up.**

 **'Till next time!**


	5. Chapter 5

Suit wandered the halls of The Red Keep, his destination the healing quarters. He 'convinced' Aerys to lend his own maester in healing the rescued slaves. He opened the door to where they were tended to and saw Pycelle ordering several nurses and doctors around to help the patients currently on the tables. He suddenly heard a young voice exclaim and saw the little girl holding her mother's hand as she sat next to her on the table, pointing at him with a relieved smile. Her mother followed her finger and spotted Suit waving at the child with a kind smile, a wave that her daughter returned. She herself smiled towards him kindly when their eyes met.

She placed her feet on the cold stone floor, legs trembling, which Suit noticed and walked over to her, sparing her the arduous task. She gave a thankful smile, and he returned a curt nod. Her daughter plopped down from the table and ran over to him. Suit prepared as he crouched and allowed her to run into his hands before lifting her, his smile widening at her giggles.

The dark-skinned woman spoke in Westerosi. "She likes you."

He glanced at her, "The feeling is mutual. Lara, was it?"

"Lara," she confirmed.

He repeated after her, "Lara." The girl giggled at hearing him say her name.

"Thank you," She said suddenly. Suit met her eyes. "I owe you my life and my daughter's."

"Don't mention it," he responded with a calm voice. "Even I cannot leave someone to such a fate."

Her smile was now hesitant as she stared at him. She suddenly turned around and spoke to one of her own people, a dark skinned man. He could not understand the Summer Isles' tongue, so he waited for them to finish. She met his eyes again, "Leave Lara with Xhoris. I would speak with you in private."

He nodded before allowing the girl to run to her uncle. The woman pointed behind him, and Suit spotted his suit jacket on a chair. As he moved to take it, he rolled down his sleeves again and buttoned them before his hand took the gloves from his back pocket and putting them on. He put the jacket on, along with the tie that had been wrapped around the pommel of the armrest, before following her out of the room. She limped slightly, but was in a much better state than before. They both found themselves standing outside, and she turned towards him.

"I cannot speak words that would do justice to how much I truly appreciate what you have done for me and my child."

He nodded. "What happened to you? You were merchandise, I would not expect them to use you."

She stared, surprisingly unaffected by what's happened to her. Or so anyone else might have thought. Suit saw the hidden pain and fear in her eyes. "I thought I was as well. But then those three men, the ones seemingly in control of their group, thought me too beautiful to ignore and decided to keep me as their pleasure slave. At first I resisted, but then they threatened my daughter. So I let them have their way with me."

He stared with a blank expression, no emotions betrayed by his face or eyes. Probably because he felt none. "You don't need to talk about this if it is too much."

She smiled, appreciating his concern, "I have been a slave my entire life. I was born to pleasure my masters. My daughter is my former master's child, yet she was but another slave to him. When he died, his heir sold me and my family to mere slave merchants, as if to insult us. During my time under my former master, I had been taught many different tongues by other slaves. And I have been taken by men my entire life, obediently or by force. What those men did to me is nothing new." She seemed to freeze. Despite her words, she still suffered every time they took her. She learned to numb herself at times when men would take her by force, to wander. But being forced upon was not something you ever got used to, and neither was the humiliation of it. She would still suffer at times…

She quickly snapped back into it and looked in his eyes again. There was something… oddly comforting about them. They were not hard or intimidating, but cold and unfeeling, ruthless. She was surprised to feel comforted that a dangerous man as this one would guard her daughter's life.

She continued to speak, voice trembling as she remembered their abuses. "But as they forced themselves on me, they threatened to give me to their men to rape in front of my own _daughter_. My precious Lara… they would have me abused and humiliated and raped in front of my own Lara. Her heart is too gentle for such cruelties. I would endure far worse for my child to keep her from harm. Yet they would see me _and_ my daughter suffer. _You_ saved Lara from that fate. Ever… ever since she was born, I knew she would grow up with my beauty. And I knew what cruel men did to me. I realized the same would be done to her when she would begin to bloom my hips and legs and breasts. I lived every night since her birth in fear… until last night, after you saved us. After you saved Lara. I will be eternally grateful to you for that."

He remained in silence, not knowing how to respond or if he was meant to at all. His silence planted seeds of uncertainty in the woman, "And… to show my gratitude… I must let you have the thing of value I am able to give…"

He stared at her, hiding his confusion by what she meant. His eyes widened, unnoticeably so, as he realized what she was offering. "There is no need. I did not save a young girl from the life of a sex slave to keep her mother as one."

Her own eyes widened, and she directed her eyes to the ground bowing her head. A habit as native to her as breathing from a life of slavery, "F-forgive me if I am not fitting to your preference?"

Though he hid it well, he was shocked that she would assume that to be his thoughts. Living as a slave must have been worse than he thought. "That is not what I meant…" ' _I find your body perfect,_ ' he would have said. But he did not think so. In fact, he did not think anything of it. He was never involved in sexuality in any form. It was alien to him. Perhaps that had something to do with the fact that he knew next to nothing about it. "Do not think your own value to be that of your body. You are more than that."

She looked up at him in shock, staring in amazement of the strange man before her. Never had she met a man so… selfless. She had lived as a slave, and was one of her master's favourites. Despite that, she would still be given to important male guests as a greeting gift to pleasure themselves with. Her master loved her body and the pleasure it provided him, but did not love her. Nor did she love him. She was surrounded by selfish men who took her every day and used her as a tool by giving her to others. The only kind men she had known was her own brother, and a few of the other slaves. But this man was something else. She was not arrogant, but she knew her own beauty. Her face was gorgeous, and her body was thick and full in all the right places. Some of the slavers that took her had commented that she possessed the perfect body for pleasuring men. And she was still a young woman.

She offered herself willingly to him, and even the other kind slaves would have taken her had she offered herself to them. After all, she was willing. But this man had declined, stating that he was in no need of a reward. Such kindness from a stranger was… foreign to her. And yet for an odd reason, it only made her want to have him more. Not that it was surprising. After all, she was a bed slave her entire life. A master in the Ways of the Seven Sighs, the art of lovemaking is her life. Or was, rather. Before she had Lara.

"Thank you…" He gave another curt nod. "I suppose I should also thank you for giving me work as a servant. I was told I could start helping a, Princess Elia, I believe her name was. Serving is all I know, and although I have lived my entire live only pleasuring men, only a woman with an empty head would lack the ability to work as a servant. So you have my gratitude." Another nod. She smiled at him, "You do not talk much, I notice." He shook his head. "Unless it is with Lara. You seem to be rather fond of her."

He stared, "I'm fond of all children, as is known here."

Her smile widened, "There are other children in this castle?"

"A prince and a princess that I know of. I myself am rather new as well. The children are around Lara's age. I have no doubts they can become friends," he said, already knowing what she was thinking.

She nodded, "That is good… I must tell you something. Although you have refused, know that if you ever desire me, you have the right to take me." Once again, he was shocked, but somehow not surprised. This was a woman who had been a sex slave all her life after all. "I have never been shown such respect as when you told me I am worth more than my body. And the art of lovemaking is my talent. A talent is not easily abandoned if it is what has given your life worth, as mine did in the eyes of my masters. If I must use it with someone, I would it rather be with you. And before you refuse, you must know that you are the first man I am not only willing to take into bed, but am happy to do so. I will wait as long as need be for you."

He froze. What could he respond with to that?

She smiled at his speechlessness, "No words are needed." Before he could do anything, she placed her hands on her shoulder and leaned up to kiss his cheek. She pulled back slowly, "Soria is my name." Soria turned around moved inside to Pycelle's healing quarters. He must have been imaging things, but it felt as if a warmth tickled his cheek where it had met with her lips.

* * *

 **Rhaegar**

"Come in, my prince," invited Pycelle with a wave into the sunlit room. As Rhaegar passed the doorway, his eyes landed on the many corpses, tended to by Silent Sisters, atop slabs of stone. The windows carved into the walls had been done so with the intent of highlighting each slabs with the sunlight. The beams struck the bared chests of the dead criminals, each and every one a victim to Suit. The crown prince had come with the intent on inspecting the corpses, but he was now beginning to hesitate at seeing their red-stained open wounds. Wrists and throats were open for all to see.

His violet eyes met Pycelle's. He did not like the man one bit, he was not as frail as he made himself to be. But currently, he wasn't paying his dislike for the man any thoughts, "Did you find anything in the bodies, Grand Maester?" He had asked Pycelle to inspect the bodies in hopes of retrieving something from that foreign weapon of his. Oh, seven hells. He kept forgetting its name. What was it again? Suit called it a firearm but said it also had a more specific name.

No matter. In any case, he had tried to retrieve whatever it was his weapon had fired. Some said it shot out fire so fast the eye could not catch it. Rhaegar knew better. Fire would have burned, and none of Suit's bounty targets had any burn marks on them. But the entry wounds were empty, as if Suit didn't want them to find anything.

"N-no, my prince. I've found nothing yet, but the wounds are most bizarre, I must say."

"Why is that?"

"The wounds are cleaner and more precise than the best surgeon's cut I've seen. And I've seen many, my prince."

Somehow, he was not surprised. What unnerved him, however, was the feeling that he had yet to see the full extent of Suit's skill with deadly weapons. "Why is this of interest, Grand Maester?"

"Y-you said this Suit had killed the criminals inside their own den, correct?" Rhaegar nodded. "Then he could not have wasted time on making precise cuts. Yet I see not a single flaw in his cuts, as smooth as silk. And they are struck with perfect precision, cutting the exact veins needed to bleed them out swiftly. I had not thought this possible. You must be careful around this man, my prince. He is more dangerous than any of us know."

Rhaegar almost scoffed at the idiocy of the statement. Of course the man's dangerous, a man with half his wits would tell from a single glance. "I am not blind, Grand Maester. I know the fact well."

Not a second later did the door open to reveal Ser Barristan. Rhaegar faced him, "Ser Barristan. Can I help you?" The knight requested he come outside.

When he did, they both faced each other. He did not look happy, "My prince. Martyn Rivers' trial begins soon."

Taken aback with surprise, Rhaegar asked, "What? By whose orders!?" This was far too soon! They had only arrested him a day ago!

"The king."

"Of what interest is the traitor to my father?"

Now he understood Ser Barristan's unhappiness, "He… He found out Suit's involvement in his arrest. I fear he may attempt to release Martyn Rivers simply to spite him."

"Seven hells! Of all the things!" It was extremely rare Rhaegar lost his temper, it truly took effort to infuriate him. And his father just made the effort needed. "Ser Barristan, find Suit and order him to my chambers immediately! I will inform him of the situation. Perhaps he will be the one to take witness against the traitor."

* * *

 **Rhaella**

The sun had fallen and night shrouded the sky in darkness. Rhaella laid on her bed, her eyes closed as she dreamt. She dreamt of her children. The ones who had never drew breath for longer than a year, or drew breath at all. She was reminded of her failures as a mother, and as a wife to bear her husband healthy children.

They all stood in a line in front of her, with dead amethyst eyes staring forward. They were all there. Shaena, Daeron, Visenya, Aemon and Jaehaerys. Those were the only ones that did not die from a miscarriage, but rather from stillbirths. Now they were all adults, wearing dirty and torn rags, looking the part of prisoners of the Black Cells.

They all spoke, five voices joining as an echoing one. "You are no mother. You are weak. You are a pathetic excuse for a woman. You are unable to even birth normally. You deserve what father does to you. You deserve torment."

Tears began to fall from her eyes as she reached out her hand towards them, "Please… Forgive me, my children."

"You are not our mother."

She covered her mouth with her hand, unable to keep the sobs from leaving her lips. "D-don't say such things, please…"

"You deserve everything happening to you. It's all your fault."

"I know, but please… Don't hate me for it…" Her heart got heavier with each second. She couldn't bear the thought of her own children hating her.

They all scoffed at her, "Pathetic."

She fell to her knees, chest heavy, and reached out her hand towards them as they turned around and walked away. "No," she sobbed out. Suddenly, darkness enveloped her vision, and she found herself seated on her bedside.

She looked down to find herself naked. Her eyes widened in terror as Aerys appeared between her legs, cruel gleam in his eyes as his hands clamped down on his thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh, long rotten nails clawing. He was equally bared as her. "NO!" She yelled out in desperation before he suddenly rammed himself inside of her and began to bite into her breasts. She screamed out in pain as he raped her, tears falling like a river stream from her eyes. He thrust into her roughly with no regard for her comfort or pleasure and only bit harder into her breasts. "AH! Please, stop this, Aerys!"

He only pulled back and laughed. His hands left her arms and gripped her breasts before digging his fingers and nails into them. As she sobbed in pain and terror, he leaned down and began licking her face, and she attempted to thrash her head away from his tongue in vain. He finally pulled away and stared at her with manic wide eyes and grin.

"You're hurting me!" screamed Rhaella, as she always did.

He laughed manically again in response, as he always did.

She closed her eyes and sobbed before whispering, "Please…"

* * *

 **Suit**

He walked to his quarters by himself, passing by guards who stared at him, some in fear, while others in curiosity and amazement. He ignored them all and kept walking, accompanied only by the sound of his shoes clacking on the stones of the castle grounds and the flames of the torches lighting the hallways. He was passing the training yard when something unexpected happened, stopping him in his path. The beautiful voice of a young woman whispering, accompanied by the voice of Arthur Dayne. They were speaking of the subject of Suit, curiously enough. Suit looked up at the upper level of the spectator's benches. He saw who the woman's voice belonged to. Brother and sister flanked each other on their bench while Princess Rhaenys leaned against the railing and watched with eager eyes as Ser Darry of the Kingsguard fought alongside his brother, the master-at-arms Willem Darry, against guards of both great and small stature.

He hid in the shadows as his inhuman ears overheard their conversation. The young woman spoke first, " _You know very well_ why _he did it, brother_."

Arthur sighed, " _Of course I do, dear sister. But that doesn't make it right, a fact you know is as certain as day_."

Her voice was annoyed, perhaps even angry, " _What I know for all certainty is that Aerys got what he deserved_."

" _Careful, Ashara, you speak treasonous words_."

She did not hide the anger in her faint whispers, " _What will you do, take my life? Perhaps give me to the king to burn above a brazier of green flames? Perhaps he'll claim his rights as a man and take me as he does the queen before he's finished? Who's to say he will not keep me as a pet simply to humiliate you?_ "

There were no words at first from Ser Arthur. " _…You know I would not do such things._ "

" _No, but that delusional ruin of a man will._ "

" _Watch your tongue, sister. I love you, but I will not tolerate such words in my presence._ "

" _No, but you will tolerate that poor woman to be raped by her brother. Can you imagine how she feels every night? Abandoned and lonely with only a monster for company? Every time I see her, downtrodden and sapped of all spirit, I have to resist the urge to shove Aerys' face into those green flames he loves so. Every time I see her, I want to embrace her and tell her that she's not alone and abandoned! I want to do_ something!"

Arthur sighed. His sister was the kindest woman there was, with a fire in her heart that burned brighter than wildfire. Not a fire that made her a wroth and impatient woman, but one that made her passionate and fearless.

She continued her rant, " _You didn't help Queen Rhaella because you_ couldn't _. You told me yourself you wish you could. But suddenly this… Suit comes along and does something right and you want to punish him? Is that how you plan to reward him for- Don't interrupt! You cannot protect the queen against the king, but you_ will _not protect the king from Suit! I refuse to allow it!_ "

"… _I am a knight of the Kingsguard, sister._ "

Suit saw her face marring with anger, " _Gods, you're so bullheaded you'd make Ser Gerold blush!_ "

Arthur could not help but laugh quietly. The princess heard and turned around, "What's so funny? Did I miss a joke?"

A smile appeared on Ashara's face like it was second nature to her. She's a good actor, thought Suit. "Nothing of note, princess. I'm sure even my brother could make a better jape."

"But Ser Arthur is horrible at making jokes," said Rhaenys with genuine disappointment.

Ashara laughed at the indignant look on her brother's face, "He is, isn't he?"

"I am not, dear sister!"

The lady and the princess laughed at him before Rhaenys leaned against the railing and spectated once more. Ashara continued, " _Brother, I know not helping the queen fills your heart with guilt. She can finally find some relief thanks to Suit. Let her have it. You know she deserves it. And don't say you're a knight of the Kingsguard. I know you want to let Suit continue, you have no need to pretend in front of me. When it comes to Rhaella, you want to abandon your oaths but you don't for the sake of honour. Now you don't need to._ "

Arthur said nothing, and Ashara took it as her words speaking truth.

Suit was most confused. He felt… something warm in his chest at her words. She was defending him and she barely knew him. ' _Why?_ ' No matter how long he thought on the question, not a single logical explanation appeared to him. Not even as he pondered on it on his way back to his room. He was walking past two large double doors and recognized it as Rhaella's room. He noticed that two normal guards were standing on either side of the double doors. The Kingsguard had no doubt been ordered to guard only the king. Not surprising considering what had happened to him.

He looked away from the door and stared straight forward, not stopping his stride. He suddenly froze as his sharp ears heard something. He slowly turned his head towards the double doors, and his body followed. He slowly walked closer to the doors, staring at the ground with a focused look on his face. The two guards glanced at each other in confusion before one of them asked, "Is there something-"

"Shh," Suit said as he placed his finger on his lips.

They both stared at him oddly, "What's wro-"

"Shh, just be quiet for one second!" Suit said with a frown as he focused. But he was not frowning because of the guard. He suddenly looked up from the ground and at the doors before his eyes widened and he moved to enter. The two guards crossed their spears in front of the doors.

"Not so fast!"

Suit glared at them both, and they suddenly felt discouraged by his anger. This man was normally so emotionless. And his absence of emotions was frightening enough. But his anger was downright terrifying, his piercing and burning glare, and imposing scowl, petrified them. His tall stature and muscular body certainly helped factor into the dread he inspired. Despite his suit hiding his body, they could still tell he was strong and definitely no stranger to combat.

Before they could pull their spears back, he spoke with a raised voice. "She's having a panic attack, you _imbecille_!" he said, his accent particularly thicker when saying the last word, clearly a word from his native tongue. They glanced at each other with wide eyes before he suddenly pushed their spears apart and burst into her room.

He found her almost hyper-ventilating as she gripped the sheets close to her chest. Her face was that of absolute fear and dread as she stared at down at her knees, trying to calm herself down. Her entire body was sweating and trembling, her scalp damp. She was freezing despite the warmth of her cover. He quickly ran to her side and climbed onto her bed on his knees, gripping her shoulders and shaking her, "Rhaella!? RHAELLA!"

She suddenly gasped and her head snapped to the side to look at him, her panting continuing. Her eyes realized who she was staring at, and she whimpered out shakily, "S-Suit?"

He repressed a wince. The poor woman only had a man whom she did not even know the name of to comfort her. He nodded, a comforting smile on his face. "It's me, Rhaella. I'm here, you're going to be alright."

She tried to regulate her breathing again, calming herself down. She shivered almost violently from the cold and the fear prevented her heartbeat from slowing. But as he spoke words of comfort, tears began to form in her eyes. He cared about her, she thought. This stoic and near lifeless man showed emotion, and not just any. He showed _concern_ , for her. She remembered his words. She was under his protection, and she realized now it was not merely empty words. He was truly going to help her and protect her, and comfort her in her time of need. He was going to be there for her. Tears fell from her eyes as she desperately jumped into his arms, burying her face in his neck as she began to sob. The panic attack, the fear and dread from her nightmare, the realization that this man cared about her, all of the emotions mixed together finally flooded.

The two guards stared at him in surprise, and Suit's intimidating gaze found them before he motioned his head for them to leave, to which they obeyed immediately and swiftly. He continued to hold her, and whispered calming words and rubbed her back as she sobbed and sobbed. She finally calmed down after minutes of crying, and kept hugging him tightly. Suit turned around to sit on the chair next to the bed bedside, but not before gingerly placing her sideways on her bed. He slipped his arms away from under her and sat down, his gloved hand holding her sweaty ones.

He did not know how to comfort her, or anyone for that matter. He was an assassin, it didn't exactly come as a requirement for the job, so he knew nothing of it. Instead he did something he only saw once on TV. His hands hesitantly cupped her cheek before his thumb rubbed her cheek to wipe the stains her sorrow left behind. Her cheeks reddened at the action, confusing him. He dismissed it. She was just pulled out of a panic attack, she was obviously not well, he assumed.

She hesitated to say something. He noticed and told her, "Whatever it is you wish to say, say it." He stared at her before deciding to add, "I'm here for you." He needed to build trust between them. He may have already gained her favour, but it never hurt to solidify it.

Suddenly, she felt like a young maiden again, shy and timid. "Thank you…" He nodded.

"Will you be alright?"

She mistook it as a request to leave and she desperately grabbed onto his arm, grip weak and eyes wide once more as tears of fear began to form, "No! Please! I fear being alone, don't leave!"

He stared into her terrified eyes and heard the unadulterated fear. She truly needed someone, he realized. Who was he to deny her? It wasn't as if he'd lose precious time. There was no matter of import. None other than her. He nodded and she let out a breath of relief before placing her head on the pillow again, her hand releasing his arm. He barely noticed the difference from her extremely weak grip. They both stared into each other's eyes. Suit saw an odd look in hers. The same one as when she thanked him for rescuing those slaves. After a lengthy silence of him holding her cheek and rubbing his gloved thumb, wiping her tears gently in comfort, he finally broke said silence and asked, "What happened?"

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, remembering what she dreamt of. "I… I had… a nightmare…"

"About what?"

She remained silent and stared, almost considering not telling him. But he was only trying to help her, she told herself. "I… After I gave birth to Rhaegar, I bore many children for Aerys. Every single one, except for Viserys', was either a stillbirth, or a miscarriage."

Suit remained silent before he said, "I'm sorry…"

At hearing his words, Rhaella was unable to keep the smile from forming on her lips, "Thank you. There was only one exception other than Viserys. But… he died after six months. Despite that, it was not what caused my fear. After I dreamt of my dead children spitting words of hatred at me, I found myself on my bed. I was… bared. Like a newborn babe. And then… Aerys appeared, just as naked as me and he…" She stopped herself, closing her eyes tightly as tears began to fall once again.

"No need to continue. I understand."

She whispered shakily, "Thank you." She sobbed a few times before inhaling, calming herself down. She let out a sigh and continued, "After what felt like hours and hours of torment, I woke up confused, terrified, panicking, freezing, trembling, nauseous… anything dreadful you could think of… It was so horrible… But then… you came along. You woke me up from whatever sort of trance I was in." She slowly lifted her head from her pillow, and he turned his head to meet her fear-filled violet eyes. "What's happening to me? That trance has happened before, but never so severe. It's always the same. Freezing, unable to breathe, terrified and nauseous and damn near violent trembling. Sometimes even after I wake up I hallucinate that… that Aerys is still there and is still… raping me." Her other hand gripped the pillow tightly and she sobbed again, "I cannot even escape torment in my dreams."

He stared as he spoke, "You had a panic attack. It is a symptom of PTSD."

After her sobs passed, her brows furrowed in confusion, "PTSD?"

"It is an acronym for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Not surprising after what you've been through."

She could not stay her curiosity. She had to know more. "D-do many have this problem?"

"If they have been through something traumatic. It is very common amongst soldiers. After they come back from the war, they suffer in silence. They suffer the same as you, some even worse, when others are not looking. Some even end up taking their own lives."

She gasped with wide eyes, "By the gods…"

He nodded slowly, "Yes. As if they hadn't been through enough. So many people seem to take them for granted at times." He continued staring, fascinated. ' _She just suffered a severe panic attack, and the residual mental effects have not completely worn off yet. And still she seemed truly regretful when she heard of soldiers taking their own lives. Why? She's the one in danger, yet she continues to be… concerned with others._ ' It confused him.

She stared at him with unreadable eyes, "You seem to know much about this…"

He was almost surprised by her observation. "I know what you are implying. But no, I have never suffered from PTSD myself. I am not human enough for that." For some reason, that statement saddened her, and her beautiful eyes looked at him in sympathy. "But I know soldiers who have. More of them die at home than in war."

Her eyes lingered on his as he spoke, "You seem to sympathise with them."

"No," he said as he shook his head. "I will not insult them by lying and saying that I care for them. I don't. I'm an assassin. I've a hard time caring for anyone in. Life… means nothing to me. Whether you agree or not is irrelevant. In the end, it's how I feel. I would kill them as soon as any other if I was hired to do so." Her face was unreadable as she kept staring back. "But… I still know what they are going through, the soldiers. And even understand it. I just can't feel for them."

She realized the slip up in his words even if he himself didn't. He said he knew what they were going through. It may not mean he suffers from PTSD, but he has suffered great trauma. "And yet you also acknowledge their suffering," She added. "You don't ignore them."

He stared at her before shaking his head, "No, I don't."

"Were… Were you a soldier as well?"

He hid his hesitation to answer and looked forward, breaking eye contact. "It's complicated."

She stared before conceding, disappointed but also understanding. "I see," she said quietly.

He remained silent for a few seconds until he suddenly said, "Perhaps one day I will tell you my story."

Surprise overcame her, not expecting him to show as much trust as he was. But in truth, Suit would most likely not speak of his true story. He does not believe it possible for him to ever trust someone that much.

Rhaella continued to stare at him as she laid on her large bed. All thoughts of her nightmare seemed to dissipate slowly as his thumb rubbed her cheek. She placed her own hand above his to keep it there. She wondered how it would feel to pull him into her bed and have him hold her, to feel his comforting warmth and his protective arms shielding her. Nothing would put her more at ease. Suit was unlike any man she met before. She was no stranger to love, a naïve child she was not. She knew she had begun developing feelings for him. But what if he didn't return them. Most men would only dream of being the target of a queen's affections, especially one possessing Rhaella's beauty, with her buxom and voluptuous body. But Suit was not most men. He was from another world. And he himself was most likely the most dangerous man in Westeros, perhaps not the most powerful. Not yet, at least. But to face him in person is to try and face the Stranger himself. After all, Aerys the Mad King himself fears him too much to take action. He may be mad, but he is not foolish. He still retains the cleverness he once had. He knows the last thing he wishes to do is to anger Suit while in the same castle as him.

She knew that kings and queens mean nothing to Suit. He would kill them all the same, because he could. Her station meant nothing special to him. That is why she can never be certain he'll return her affections.

"Raniero," he said suddenly. She raised her head from her pillow and looked at him in confusion.

They locked gazes as he repeated himself, "Raniero Auditore. _That_ is my name." Her eyes widened in surprise. Did he just give her his name? Did he truly trust her so? "You deserve to know it. I'd rather you be comforted and protected by someone you know the name of, not… ' _Suit_ '."

She was speechless for a good while, not knowing what to say as she kept staring. She settled for a, "Thank you." Her voice trembled with emotion as she said it. He nodded, and she continued, "I-I know that trust does not come easy to you… that is not lost on me. It means much to me that you would reveal it."

He nodded.

"Raniero," she repeated, her accent making it sound rather odd compared to how natural it came to him. "Your name… it does not sound like the tongue you speak in."

"No. It isn't English." At her look of confusion, he elaborated, "English is my world's Common Tongue."

"Oh. Is it in your native tongue?"

He nodded, "Yes. It is Italian."

"Is that what you are? Italian?" She asked, hoping she pronounced it right.

"Yes. You are the first person I've spoken of this to."

"Why?"

He stared for a good while, not knowing the answer himself. Was it truly so she knew the name of her protector? Or was there some motive behind it even he himself could not fathom? "I have to admit, it actually feels good to finally tell someone my true name. It is… relieving. Yes, that is the closest word I can describe this feeling with. Relieving."

Rhaella stared into his green eyes. For some reason, he wanted her to know his true name. He wanted her to know who he was. But why? Why did he wish a friendship with her? She began to theorize in her head. He was clearly experienced in trauma, and suffering. Could it be that he once suffered so bad he shut out his emotions? Is that how he became a perfect assassin? Did he wish to..?

No… He couldn't, could he? But what if, she asked herself. What if he truly wished to… connect with her? He clearly understood her pain, the suffering and aftermath of Aerys' rapes and abuses. Perhaps he suffered in a war that left him an empty shell, a shadow of his former self, just like her. Perhaps he suffered the pain of the trauma's aftermath.

She mentally shook the thought from her mind. Once again, her childlike optimism was giving her false hope. He said it himself, he can't feel sympathy. So why would he want any?

Raniero noticed her disappointed look, but refrained from commenting on it. He could only theorize on what it was that disappointed her. As she closed her eyes and placed her head on the pillow again, he found himself staring at her face. He was distracted by it. He knew Rhaella would be considered beautiful, even gorgeous by many men. He would not be surprised if they said she was more beautiful than Soria. He himself was an assassin, a killer. It was all he ever knew. All he ever thought of was who his next target was, if he cleaned his weapons, how he would go about eliminating his target, clean or brutal, or if he had new contracts to accept. He was never interested in women or men. In fact, he never engrossed at all with anything even remotely sexual.

But now, to his own confusion, he could not help but keep his eyes on her face, her high, delicate cheekbones with a sharp jaw carving out a heart shaped visage. Her small nose, and now-closed large purple eyes one could lose themselves in as easy as one could in a starry night, and finally her alluring full soft lips. Was he… attracted? It was a… curious and pleasant feeling. But still an alien one. He quickly turned his head away, he could not allow himself to be distracted this way. And who was she anyways, to be able to have such an effect on him? He was a ruthless hitman, and she was a helpless woman who was raped by her brother every day, defenceless and weak. Pitiful, in fact. Why was _she_ out of all people be able to provoke such feelings from him, he asked himself, not bitterly but out of genuine curiosity and confusion.

Despite that, the more he compared himself to her, the more he began to see just how ruined they both were. They shared something in common. But unlike him, she was strong and brave enough to keep her humanity, unlike him who abandoned it out of fear of going mad with grief.

Out of fear…

He was a coward and he knew it. Maybe not the textbook definition of one, as he did not cower in fear at the sight of his own shadow. But he was a coward.

And she deserves someone better who understands her. But that doesn't matter, he's the _only_ one who does. So he'll have to do his best to care for her.

"I was part of a war," he said suddenly, his voice shockingly quiet for someone so level headed. Everything about him was moderate, even the tone and volume of his voice. Her eyelids parted to reveal her amethyst irises and looked up at him in surprise. "But I wasn't a normal soldier. I was a child soldier." She gasped, her eyes revealing the shock of his words. "I was taken off the streets when I was three years old, kidnapped. They knew I wasn't going to be missed, I was a homeless orphan, abandoned by my mother and father. I don't even know who took care of me when I was a baby. But they took me in and trained me. And they did it brutally. I was trained to become the perfect killer, without emotion and remorse. They tried to make a machine in human skin."

She waited a few seconds, expecting him to continue. She soon realized that was as much as he was willing to reveal, and asked, "Is that why you… why you are the way you are?"

He stared at the ground in front of him, still as a statue. He shook his head gently, "No. They did not succeed in their task."

"No?" She asked in confusion. But then why was he so… emotionless? Her eyes idled on him as she slowly came to a realization, "There is more to it than that, isn't there?"

His gaze remained on the floor as he nodded slowly, "Much more. _So_ much more."

As she began appreciating the hidden meaning behind his words, her hand tentatively rose, to his curiosity. She seemed to reclusive now suddenly, so shy, as her hand reached towards his face. His instincts screamed at him to stop her, to push her hand away, to move away and leave the room, to break her hand and every little finger attached to it, _anything_ to stop her. But he did something he never thought himself capable of doing. He ignored his killer instincts and listened to his heart, even as his hand almost trembled. He froze, not moving an inch. Not even as her hand slid across his hollow cheek and cupped it. He was confused when her eyes seemed to avoid his. Why, was she afraid?

Her demure voice was barely above a whisper, "I will not forget the trust you put in me… Raniero. I… I hope that I will earn more than trust, perhaps even earn y-your friendship."

He swallowed, his face and eyes calm. But the calmness was only on the outside, inside he was confused like never before. Though it was not her shyness to the point of fear that surprised him. She was, after all, abused on a daily basis. Everyone in King's Landing, if not all of Westeros, knew so. Yet no one helped her in her time of need. To turn fearful and shy was an unsurprising outcome. Somehow, her shyness only made her more attractive. Was it wrong to think so, when considering the catalyst for her timid behaviour? He did not know. He wasn't experienced in such things, after all. But in the end, it was the truth. Her shyness made her more… desirable in his eyes, and even made her endearing. For some reason, so did her desire to become his… friend.

"…Thank you." He had almost forgotten the words' meaning.

A beautiful smile slowly crept up on her lips and she nodded as her eyes finally met his, "Of course, Raniero."

And to her surprise, he smiled. "Call me Nero."

The smile was almost genuine.

* * *

 **A/N: There you have it, folks. Suit's real name. Though the readers that have been with me since I first wrote the story already knew. I chose Auditore as his last name for obvious reasons, and the fact that he's an assassin as well. I realize not much happened this chapter in terms of carrying the plot forward, but I wanted to dedicate this chapter to a bit of character development and building Suit's relationship with Rhaella, Soria, and in the future, Ashara.**

 **The next chapter will contain Martyn Rivers' trial and Suit's part in it. Future chapters following will be other canon characters reacting to the rumours of Suit and Suit taking even more contracts to build up reputation and spread said rumours.**

 **jigentou: The reason for his OP:ness will be revealed later, and not all the reasons will be 'natural' *hint* *hint***

 **Freya Namikaze: Had to use Google Translate to understand anything of what you wrote since I've forgotten everything I learned in spanish class, but from what I did understand, I assume you liked the story. I appreciate the kind words, amigo/amiga. Muchos gracias.**

 **Biganime40: I think if they were Lengii, their length would be the first thing Suit would have noticed. But no, they're simply Summer Islanders. Interesting speculation though.**

 **I adore the support received from everyone, thank you all.**

 **And to clear up any questions surrounding the pairings, this will be a harem. Though not your conventional harem where they all get together and its happy ever after. And the ones to be in this harem are already decided: Rhaella, Ashara, and Soria.**

 **The first two are decided and will stay so, but I'm personally not sure if I will include Soria. If anyone has any constructive arguments for/against her, please let me know and I can come to a final decision. If not, then I'll just figure it out myself.**

 **In any case, until next time!**


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